


Pause, Rest

by isuilde



Series: Respite Verse [5]
Category: Free!
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rin doesn't deal well with losing okay don't judge him, also Makoto tries his best, no locker is hurt in the making of this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-03
Updated: 2013-12-03
Packaged: 2018-01-03 08:55:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1068548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isuilde/pseuds/isuilde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“He lost.” Sousuke’s tone makes something inside Makoto’s chest tighten. “There’s a new kid around; he’s pretty much a swimming genius of some sort. He beat Rin’s time.” A pregnant pause fills the air. “He’s been quiet, Makoto, it was like watching a storm slowly brewing inside him. Told him to go home when he started antagonizing the lockers.”</p><p>(or, when he's hit the point beyond exhaustion, Rin turns to Makoto.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pause, Rest

**Author's Note:**

> Un-beta-ed, grammar errors beware. An attempt to stave off writer’s block, so my writing’s kinda stilted here, sorry.
> 
> This started off as me attempting to write how Makoto would deal with Rin’s losses, but it doesn’t really come out the way I thought, and ends up pretty much all over the place, idk. But anyway, please enjoy.

 

“Hey,” Sousuke’s voice filters through the phone, greeting Makoto the way he usually does. “Thought I should warn you in advance.” 

Makoto scrambles to his feet, disregarding the papers strewn everywhere, but manages to catch the rolling pen before it slips under the couch. “Yeah?” 

“He’s gone home.” Sousuke says, pausing for a beat to greet someone else on his end of the line—probably one of the pool facility workers. When he continues, there’s a warning tone in his voice. “You might want to get ready—he’s pissed off.” 

Makoto frowns. “Did something happen?” 

“He lost.” Sousuke’s tone makes something inside Makoto’s chest tighten. “There’s a new kid around; he’s pretty much a swimming genius of some sort. He beat Rin’s time.” A pregnant pause fills the air. “He’s been quiet, Makoto, it was like watching a storm slowly brewing inside him. Told him to go home when he started antagonizing the lockers.” 

“I’m so sorry,” Makoto says, sheepish and apologetic at the same time. Sousuke’s laugh comes in sharp burst, instantly drowned by the sound of the traffic, which means he’s just stepped out of the facility. “Rin just needs some time to deal with the sting, you know how it goes.” 

“I’m laughing because you sound like his _mom_ ,” Sousuke says, voice louder now so that he could be heard amongst the harsh noises of cars passing by. “Why are you apologizing for him?” 

Makoto’s lips twitch up. “Because Rin actually feels bad after?” he offers, laughing when that earns him Sousuke’s snort. “No, really, he doesn’t say it, he doesn’t apologize either, but it doesn’t change the fact that he feels bad.” 

“What, does he brood over how he antagonized the lockers?” 

Makoto rolls his eyes. “More than you know.” 

“That’s actually really hard to believe,” the amusement in Sousuke’s voice is thick, but then he sobers up. “Really though, Tachibana. You gotta do something, we have a race in two days and he needs to be in top condition.” 

“I know—“ and the rest of Makoto’s words die in his throat as he hears the front door slams open loudly. He winces. “Uh. I have to go, he’s home.” 

“Good luck,” Sousuke says empathically, and hangs up. 

Makoto stares at the mess of the living room for a second: the papers containing the data he compiles for his research report, three empty water bottles, tattered and crumpled up papers of the calculations he screwed up, the empty shark mug, his own laptop, and various colored pens. Not a sight that would help Rin’s mood at all. He makes a face, then starts picking the papers, hastily throwing them together into a haphazard pile on the end of the coffee table. 

He’s in the middle of bending down and sticking one arm under the couch to reach for one of the coloring pens that’s rolled down under the couch, when he hears footsteps pausing behind him, followed by Rin’s voice. “What are you doing?”

“Um,” Makoto says eloquently, fingers still looking for the unseen pen under the couch. “What does it look like?” 

“…your ass is waggling at me, Makoto.” 

“Rin!” Makoto yelps, snatching his arms out and whirling around to frown up at his boyfriend, ignoring the heat rushing up his cheeks. Rin snorts, a corner of his mouth twitching up humorlessly, but something in Makoto’s chest gives way to relief. Rin is still talking, that’s a good sign. He isn’t _that_ pissed off. There have been days when Rin would just come home tight-lipped, silent and tense as he went through his nightly routines and climbed into bed before eight. Or worse, there were days when Rin came home fuming, snapping at Makoto and everything on his way, refusing anyone who so much tried to reach out to him. Makoto hates those days. “I could’ve used some help lifting the couch up to get my pen.” 

Rin hums, putting down his bag and falls into position on one side of the couch. Makoto takes a second to admire the way Rin’s muscles tense in stark relief, as he heaves and lifts the end of the couch. 

“Find it?” Rin grunts. Makoto ducks his head, spots the missing pen and picks it up. 

“Yeah, found it.” 

There’s another grunt as Rin puts down the couch. Makoto watches Rin’s eyes sweep around the living room almost lazily, and when they fall onto his own, he smiles. “Thanks, Rin.” 

“Another report?” 

Makoto shakes his head. “Just trying to reorganize the research data. Mori-san got some of our variables mixed up.” He gestures at the haphazard pile of papers. “Including some data from the questionnaires, so I have to sort them all over again. Have you eaten, Rin?” 

Rin shrugs. “Not that hungry.” 

Makoto exhales. He doesn’t like it when Rin answers everything in short sentences; it means they’re threading thin ice, and that Rin barely has a hold on his temper. So he stands up, reaching out to Rin carefully, slowly, giving him a chance to back up, and smiles in relief when Rin doesn’t move away. 

“What’s this?” Makoto murmurs, a thumb smoothing the creases on Rin’s forehead as his other fingers tangle themselves in between the red strands of hair. Rin gazes up at him, still on edge and fierce, and Makoto thinks of beautiful embers crackling in a bonfire. He presses their forehead together, keeps his breathing steady, keeps Rin’s head cradled between his palms, and silently starts counting. 

He reaches ten when Rin’s eyes slide close, and twenty five before Rin’s breathing matches his own. 

“So tense, Rin,” he breathes, dropping a hand onto Rin’s shoulder and presses gently on Rin’s collarbone. Rin shudders once, but the set of his shoulders start to relax little by little, and Makoto hums tonelessly, his thumb making a small circle on the dip of Rin’s collarbone. Rin makes a noise at the back of his throat, a sound that tears something inside Makoto, because it sounds like exhaustion and pain and dangerously close to giving up, except this is Rin and Makoto knows Rin is incapable of giving up, even if it were for his own good. 

When Rin takes a deep breath, Makoto lets his arms wind around Rin, pulling him closer. Rin falls against him, almost boneless, and Makoto knows this is Rin stopping, this is Rin hitting a point of beyond exhaustion. He feels Rin burying his face into his neck, his breath falling steadily against Makoto’s skin, and Makoto kisses the side of his head and holds Rin close. 

“Welcome home,” Makoto whispers. Rin mutters something intelligible against the skin of Makoto’s neck, leaving a tingling sensation with every movement of his lips, and Makoto thinks he’s saying _I’m home_. 

 

**\-----o0o-----**

Sex, Makoto has found out early on their relationship, is a good way to unwind Rin completely. 

And it’s fascinating at the same time, in a rather terrifying way, that he can break Rin apart completely under his hands, his fingers, his mouth, his tongue, his gaze—again and again and again, picking apart every single piece of Rin, watching his thoughts scatter in between white sheets, escaping in short pants and noises that sound like Makoto’s name. And then by his own hand, Makoto would put Rin back together, piece after piece, careful and steady, until Rin blinks back at him with hazy eyes, sated and satisfied and happy, and relief would crash down hard on Makoto, because _they’re fine_ ; Rin is fine, everything is going to be fine, he’s taken a good care of Rin, and he’s going to be just _fine_. 

He leans down and kisses Rin, languid and deep, and there’s nothing in this world that could compare to the feeling of Rin opening up beneath him, accepting him completely, allowing him to reach the very core of Rin’s being. This is Rin leaving himself bare for Makoto to see, to touch, to take care of. The ever-capable person, who always pushes himself back up when he hits rock bottom, who tirelessly chases after his dream, trusts Makoto to see the side of him that is exhausted and hurting and confused. 

Coming from Rin, Makoto thinks, there is no better honor to give than this. 

“Sousuke told you, didn’t he,” Rin states later, when Makoto curls himself around the curve of Rin’s back, pressing it against his chest. He smells like sweat and sex and Makoto’s favorite brand of shampoo. “He tattled on me, didn’t he.” 

It isn’t an accusation, just a statement. Makoto smothers a smile and buries his face into the red strands under his nose. “I don’t know. Did he?” 

Rin snorts. “Liar.” He picks Makoto’s hand and plays with it absently, fingertips lightly tracing the lines across Makoto’s palm, letting the silence between them stretch comfortably for a few moments. Makoto closes his palm, trying to trap Rin’s fingers inside, and Rin snatches them away, waits for Makoto to open his palm again, and goes back on tracing his life line. On the third time he does that, Rin says, ”I was really pissed off.” 

“Sousuke said you antagonized the lockers.” 

“Yeah, that,” Rin shifts in a rather sudden anxiety. Makoto tightens his arms around him until he settles down and relaxes again. “…fuck, I should probably apologize about that.” 

“It’s okay,” Makoto says. “They understand, I think. But yes, you should apologize.” 

“Whose side are you on?” Rin accuses, but there’s amusement in his voice, and Makoto laughs. “Good thing I went straight home.” 

“You really weren’t that pissed off, were you?” 

“I was really pissed off,” Rin repeats, open and honest, and Makoto loves that. “Until I get to the living room and saw you waggling your ass in the air. Couldn’t get too mad at that.” 

Makoto splutters. “Rin!” 

“It’s a compliment. It should be convenient for you, right, the next time this happens, you could just drop down and waggle your ass at mmm---“ the rest of his words are swallowed by Makoto’s mouth. Their heads are tilted at a weird angle, but Makoto keeps their position for another moment before releasing Rin with a gentle bit on his lower lip. 

He rests his chin lighty on Rin’s shoulder, and whispers, “It isn’t that simple, right?” 

Rin is silent for a heartbeat, and when he agrees, it’s in a soft whisper. “It isn’t,” he pauses, and Makoto kisses the top of his head, because Rin’s losses have never been simple for any of them. Every single one of his loss is still a failure, one that Rin has to bounce back from, and it has never been simple nor easy. Every time, it requires more strength, more courage, from the both of them. But Rin doesn’t give up. He never does. “I’d just have to beat his time all over again.” 

“You will,” Makoto murmurs, with a conviction as strong as the way he’d say _oh, the sun is going to rise in a few hours._ Because Rin needs the reassurance once in a while, a reminder that his efforts is going to bring him something better, that his hard work is going to pay off, that he’s not going to lose to pure talents. “You’re going to beat his time, and you’re going to show him an amazing sight.” 

Rin pulls Makoto’s hand up, and presses his lips to it. “M’tired,” he sighs, and Makoto smiles. 

He’s glad, that Rin chooses him as a place to rest. 

“Good night, Rin.” 

He pulls Rin closer, curls themselves together, and makes himself into a cocoon to hide Rin from the rest of the world as he sleeps. 

When he wakes up, Makoto knows, something beautiful will, too. 

 

**\-----o0ofinitoo0o-----**


End file.
